


A deliberate fake boyfriend trope - epilogue

by lheadley



Series: A deliberate fake boyfriend trope [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nervous Stiles Stilinski, Scott is a Good Friend, Sequel, slight kid fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:43:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lheadley/pseuds/lheadley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles’s firm front of manly dignity and restraint cracked under the force of friendship. “It’s… I’ve done something that might be… I might have been really stupid.” Stiles drew a deep, cleansing breath in. “It’s Derek.”</p><p> </p><p>A follow up to A Deliberate Fake Boyfriend Trope (at http://archiveofourown.org/works/846896?view_full_work=true). Suggested by a comment from Leah-Catherine</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is a fine bromance

**Author's Note:**

> See http://torakodragon.tumblr.com/post/78510930797/sure-thing-stiles-turned-and-leapt-at-scott
> 
> For Torakodragon drawing of a scene from chapter 3 of the first part of the series

The heat of a warm Californian Thursday afternoon was just starting to fade. Stiles looked down at the baby in his arms, his gaze the liquid gooey-ness of one who was sinking, paralysed, to the bottom of a 10 foot deep swimming pool of adoration. He carried on with his story. “And then, brave Sir Stiles leapt heroically into the water to save the grumpy prince. The evil knight, Sir Jackson, had magically transformed himself into an even more evil Kanima-dragon and was pacing around the edge of the lake trying to eat brave Sir Stiles and the grumpy prince…” Stiles contorted his face into a comic grotesque representing the Kanima-dragon, sucking in his cheeks to give emphasis to his cheekbones while simultaneously looking like he could detect a bad smell right in front of him. His efforts elicited a gurgle of approval from the boy, who reached a hand out with a flailing motion to grab at Stiles’s nose. Stiles leant in closer so that the child could bat at him with his tiny fists, chortling when he made contact.

 

A sudden, rasping noise intruded – as if a chainsaw was working its way through a particularly hard piece of wood, and had encountered a handsaw coming from the other direction. The sound stuttered on for a few seconds, and having reached a crescendo it stopped abruptly. It was the unmistakable sound of an alpha werewolf snoring. Stiles glanced over his shoulder momentarily, with a look that blended annoyance and affection in one, before turning his attention back to the child in his arms.

 

“There, there Tyler. Did daddy startle you with his silly noises? Did he? Was daddy making a noise like a handsaw? Was he? A handsaw? Daddy should know better than to make silly noises like that, shouldn’t he?”. Stiles leaned back in, making another goofy expression, and provoking yet more gurgles of appreciation.

 

The front door closed with a loud thump – not slammed, but with no attempt at restraint. Stiles looked up in alarm, before hurrying towards to the hallway with Tyler still in his arms.

 

“Allison, shush… You’ll wake…”

 

“Stiles.” There was reproach in Allison’s voice. “You know you mustn’t let Tyler nap now. If he naps now he won’t sleep tonight.”

 

“Not Tyler. Tyler and I have been having a very grown up conversation” Stiles said with dignity, as he held up the baby so Allison could see before he turned back to make a couple more faces at Tyler. “It’s Scott who’s asleep…”

 

A sudden, loud grunting snore came from the living room, before cutting off with a choked abruptness. Scott’s face suddenly appeared over the back of the sofa. The cushion he had been sleeping on had left a red imprint on his cheek, and his hair resembled the body of a squirrel that had failed to look both ways before crossing the road.

 

Stiles looked reproachfully at his best friend. “It’s true what they say, Scotty boy. The moment men get married, they give up even trying with their appearance.”

 

Scott looked around him in a slightly wild, disoriented way before catching sight of Allison and looking guilty. “I was just about to get Tyler’s bottle. I just closed my eyes for 30 seconds. A minute. Two minutes tops. He’s not that late for his feeding, not really.” In spite of his sleepy expression, Scott managed to pull off a puppy eyes look. Stiles seemed impressed.

 

“Relax bro. Tyler was fed exactly on time, and took all his bottle like the good boy he is. And I changed him half an hour ago. You needed your sleep, and we needed some quality godfather-godson story time.” Stiles went back to making faces, as Allison moved to look over his shoulder at her son.

 

“You are going to make a wonderful dad, Stiles”. Allison patted him on the arm.

 

“Gaaah.” Stiles was still looking at Tyler, but jerked his shoulder at Allison. “Don’t say thing like that and shock me while I am holding your son and heir. I’ll drop him, and what if he hasn’t inherited Scott’s thick skull? I’d be a terrible father, I’ve got no sense of responsibility. And I couldn’t bring up a child on my own, can you imagine? I’d be forever leaving the baby behind in the supermarket or something.”

 

Allison snorted derisively. “Stiles, you have been at least half of the responsible adult and parenting team for Scott for twenty years. And you’re wonderful with Tyler. You know Scott and I wouldn’t trust you with him if that weren’t true. Scott would never go to sleep and leave Tyler with you if he didn’t trust you. And I would never assume you would be a single parent”. Allison looked a little arch at the last comment.

 

Scott looked momentarily abashed at the reminder of his napping, before nodding his head vigorously. “Dude, you are the best with kids. A complete natural. You… wait… what was that about Stiles being the responsible adult? You do know what he was like when we were growing up? I was the responsible one out of the two of us, ask anyone. Ask the Sheriff. He’ll tell you. I was so the older responsible brother…”

Allison threw a momentary glance of tolerant affection at her husband, before turning back to Stiles.

“It’s Tyler’s bath time Stiles – I’ll take him up.” She held out her arms in a somewhat half-hearted gesture. Stiles leant over Tyler, kissed him gently on the forehead, before handing him to Allison. Allison was momentarily startled, and Scott pushed himself into a proper seated position on the sofa.

“Oh. Thank you Stiles. Come on, then, you…” Allison bounced Tyler in her arms, and looked with a worried expression at Scott before turning to the stairs. As she slowly made her way towards the bathroom her mock reproach could be heard “Tyler Christopher Stiles McCall, you did not just shift. You know you are not supposed to shift into werewolf form….”

Stiles stood looking after them, a wistful look on his face, when his vision was suddenly obscured by a mass of brown, disordered hair. Scott had pulled him into a bone crunching “bro-hug” and was not letting him go.

“Stiles, what’s wrong? Whatever it is we can sort it out. Tell me what the matter is.”

Stiles managed to work his face clear of Scott’s hair, facilitating breathing, and was able to rest his chin on Scott’s shoulder while Scott massaged small circles into the back of his neck.

“Why would you think something’s wrong, dude? Everything’s good…” Stiles’s voice broke on the last phrase, and he didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

“Bro, you never, ever give Tyler up without at least five minutes protesting. And you never, ever, ever pass up on bath time. What is it?”.

Stiles’s firm front of manly dignity and restraint cracked under the force of friendship. “It’s… I’ve done something that might be… I might have been really stupid.” Stiles drew a deep, cleansing breath in. “It’s Derek.”


	2. Uncle Der-Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You… you… you understood a pop culture reference. Only to Friends, but still…”. Stiles pulled away a little, and clasped his gavel to his chest with both hands while pretending to blink back tears. “My grumpy alpha werewolf is all grown up”.

Derek came back to the loft from his Saturday morning run, drenched in sweat. He let himself into the apartment quietly, as the odds were that Stiles was still asleep. Derek had once suggested that Stiles join him on his Saturday trek around the Beacon Hills Preserve, but the only response had been a single raised eyebrow of derision. Since they had moved in together their Saturday morning routine had been established. Derek would run. Stiles would pretend Saturday morning did not exist – at least not before eleven o’clock.

“Derek” Stiles called from the kitchen area. “In here”.

Derek’s face registered his surprise, but he wandered over to where Stiles sat at the kitchen bar before leaning in for a kiss.

“God, Stiles, you reek of your boyfriend. Did Scott rub himself all over you or something?”

Stiles pointed an accusatory coffee spoon at Derek. “Someday soon you are going to have to explain to Tyler why you keep calling his daddy my boyfriend, when he already knows that his uncle Der-Bear is my boyfriend. The kid is going to grow up extremely confused. They were doing grocery shopping and stopped by to say hi.”

Derek huffed with false resignation at the ‘Uncle Der-Bear’ reference, but Stiles simply looked at him dismissively. Stiles knew full well that Derek secretly liked that Scott had given him the nickname, and that Allison had endorsed it. Derek’s façade of calm indifference to Tyler had been exposed for the charade it was when Scott and Stiles had caught him unawares, blowing raspberries onto Tyler’s belly. A gif of the event was the most hit post on the BHIPCo website.

“The only confusion Tyler is going to have is why you and Scott don’t live together”. Derek sneaked in a second kiss.

“Happy birthday Der.” Stiles pulled Derek back towards him, lingering into the third kiss of the morning (at least, the third kiss where they had both been fully conscious). “Now, go shower birthday boy. I have your surprise present all planned.”

Derek leaned in towards Stiles’s ear. “Do I get birthday sex in the shower?”.

“No you do not.” Stiles was firm, though one of his hands had sneaked under Derek’s cut off T-Shirt to stroke at his abs. “We don’t have time. You might get birthday sex tonight, after the surprise, if you still want it.”

“Why on earth would I not want to have sex with you?” Derek was leaning into Stiles’s touch, as if trying to get Stiles’s hand to slide down his sweat slick skin.

“You might get a better offer.” Stiles was trying for mischievous, but it there was the very faintest of undercurrents of worry in his inflection. Derek tensed just a little as he picked up on it – he picked up on every slight mood shift Stiles had. Derek frequently complained to Scott that picking up on all of Stiles’s moods was exhausting; Stiles was a constant swirling mass of emotions, although worry was not normally one of them these days. Derek threw off the tension after what seemed like a brief internal struggle. It was well known that Stiles always went overboard with his birthday gifts, and forever fretted that he had not gotten the perfect present.

 

Derek emerged from his shower, to find a suit and shirt combination laid out on the bed. He frowned a little – there was more than a hint of Lydia Martin about these arrangements, which in turn suggested that Stiles was going all out with his birthday surprise. Lydia did not help unless it was going to be a very big deal. At least there was no tie –which suggested Stiles was still in control of the process. If Lydia were running the show there would have been a tie.

There was a staccato series of bangs from the kitchen area, and Derek jumped at the sound. It was the noise of an enthusiastic gavel being rapped forcefully against the kitchen work surface. As the last echo died away Derek emerged from the bedroom to find Stiles also clad in a tailored suit, including trousers that should (in Derek’s impartial opinion) carry some kind of warning sign. Derek strode over for a kiss. As he did so, Stiles wielded the gavel again.

“Stiles. And. Der. Rek’s. Day. Of. Fun.”

Each syllable was punctuated by a gavel blow – the action only halting when Derek pulled Stiles against him into an embrace.

“You are just like Janice. Though it isn’t just your laugh that’s annoying”. Derek was whispering into Stiles’s ear, in a way which negated the whole complaint.

“You… you… you understood a pop culture reference. Only to Friends, but still…”. Stiles pulled away a little, and clasped his gavel to his chest with both hands while pretending to blink back tears. “My grumpy alpha werewolf is all grown up”. Derek gave a growl. “And emerging from his chrysalis like a beautiful were-butterfly into the world of real people…”. Whatever additional Stilinski witticisms were about to flow out were cut off. Stiles allowed himself to be drawn back into Derek’s arms.


	3. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles!” Derek’s voice of complaint carried an overtone of resignation – the sound of an alpha who knew full well that nothing that he could say was going to change anything. “Why have you wrapped one of Scott’s T-shirts around my head?”

 

Stiles drew back from the kiss, breathing somewhat heavily.

“Enough Der. Birthday surprise time.” The grin he gave was mischievous, skirting close on evil. Derek winced a little at the sight.

“But if it’s going to be a surprise, I can’t have you peeking at your present before it is unwrapped.”

“Is the present you?” A tone of hopefulness had crept into Derek’s voice. “’Cos I’ve seen you unwrapped before.”

“Sit.” Stiles gave the word a tone of command. “Good werewolf. Sit. Staaaaay.”

“Don’t I get a day off dog jokes? It’s my birthday.”

“Don’t whine, Derek. And dog jokes are perpetually funny. As am I. Now stay still.” Stiles pulled out a dark mass of cloth from under the counter and wrapped it around Derek’s eyes as an improvised blindfold.

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice of complaint carried an overtone of resignation – the sound of an alpha who knew full well that nothing that he could say was going to change anything. “Why have you wrapped one of Scott’s T-shirts around my head?”

“I have to blindfold you.” Stiles’s spoke with the patience of someone explaining the obvious to a particularly slow child. “Otherwise you’ll see where we are going, and that will spoil the surprise”.

“I meant” Derek seemed to be putting the full force of a glare into the tone of his voice, frustrated by the fact that his eyes were obscured “why am I wearing one of Scott’s T-shirts? All I can smell is Scott’s scent. Couldn’t I have one of your T-shirts?”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all”. Stiles was trying to sound hurt, but the obvious enjoyment interlaced with excitement was coming through clearly. The edge of worry was still there too, though.

“I know you treat your T-shirts with a reverence that would be better directed towards your boyfriend.” Derek was grumbling half-heartedly to himself. “It’s going to smell like the loft on one of your bro-bonding nights all the time I am wearing this thing, you know that?”

“I do indeed know that, Derek. I know everything. It is one of my many awesome attributes. And continual association with Scott’s scent will do you good. Think of how it will help with inter-pack cooperation. My alpha and my mate need to get along after all. Now shut up complaining and hold my hand. We’ve got to drive to get there.”

 

 

Stiles tugged Derek along with him towards the parking lot. Derek paused in surprise as he heard Stiles unlock the car.

“We’re taking the Jeep? What’s wrong with the Jaguar?” There was a pause for a second. “You didn’t, you haven’t... Stiles, have you had another crash?”

“Once. Once I crashed. And I barely damaged the fender. And it was totally Peter’s fault, you said so yourself. And no, I didn’t crash the Jaguar. We are taking Roscoe because of reasons.”

Derek felt his way into the passenger seat, fumbling a little with the seatbelt. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is too, now sit still.”

The Jeep started, and there was a sudden blast of Woodkid from the stereo. Derek winced.

“House rules Derek. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. I have a whole playlist specially created for the trip.”

Derek squirmed into his seat as Stiles started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The grinding sound as Stiles shifted out of second gear temporarily drowned out the stereo. Derek wriggled a little more, and then smirked.

“The Preserve. So we are heading east?”

“Hah!” Stiles tone was full of righteous yet triumphant indignation, expressed in a single syllable. “I knew you’d cheat.” The air was suddenly full of the sickly scent of a pine air-freshener as Stiles sprayed an aerosol around the car. Derek coughed. “Try and smell past that, wolfman.”

The grinding sound was audible again, as Stiles changed down to take a corner. He did not bother to change gear at all (despite the protesting of the engine) as he took two more corners in quick succession. “Now you have no idea where we are going.”

“Do you?”. Derek was just going for sarcasm, but he heard Stiles’s heartbeat pick up a little.

“I…. I think I know where we are heading.”

Derek’s mouth was now partly obscured by a trailing cuff of the improvised blindfold, but he seemed to be expressing puzzlement. Or possibly it was just pain at the sound of the gears sticking in second again. He reached his hand out somewhat tentatively, groping around until he found Stiles’s arm. He covered Stiles’s hand where it rested on the gear stick.

“I won’t cheat again, promise. But please tell me this isn’t a surprise party with Peter leaping out of a cake.”

“Not out of a cake, no.” Stiles’s heart rate had slowed a little. Derek gently rubbed his thumb over the side of Stiles’s hand, and leaned back into his seat.

 

 

 

Three hours later, Stiles was leading a still blindfolded Derek by the hand.

“Left paw, right paw, left paw, right paw…”

“Stiles, I swear I will…”

“Rip my clothes off with your teeth? Not yet Der, that would cause comment.” Stiles stopped abruptly, Derek bumping into the back of him.

There was a brief pause. Derek heard Stiles fumbling in his jacket pockets, then mumbling under his breath “come on, for the love of…” followed by a click and a door opening.

“Come on Derek.” Stiles pulled Derek after him, and manoeuvred him into a specific position. Derek felt Stiles move around him, before suddenly removing the blindfold.

“Happy birthday, Der.”

Blinking a little Derek stared out of a huge window, looking out towards the ocean across the skyline of San Francisco.

“Stiles…” Derek exhaled as he spoke, and beside him Stiles suddenly beamed. “It’s, stunning. Where are we?”

“Mandarin Hotel, San Francisco. And we have the whole night here.”

“Stiles, you shouldn’t have spent so much on me.” Derek tore his gaze from the window to wrap his arms around Stiles, before suddenly pulling away slightly. “Wait, you made me walk through the lobby of the hotel wearing a T shirt wrapped around my head?”

“You looked magnificent.” Stiles was unapologetic.

 

They had dinner at a restaurant on the edge of the bay. The atmosphere was rowdy enough to give a sense of private intimacy. Their conversation was quiet and sporadic, with long periods of discrete hand holding – a comfortable communication born of long association.

Derek could still sense an undercurrent of worry from Stiles, which seemed to be rising slightly as the evening progressed. He almost said something as they left the restaurant, but Stiles was walking forward purposefully, almost dragging Derek along with him.

“We need to hurry a little – we mustn’t be late for the next part of your present.” Stiles was checking a map on his Samsung phone.

“There’s more?” Derek should not have been surprised, given how over the top Stiles always was with present giving.

Stiles stopped abruptly and gestured up at a brightly lit building before them. “Happy Birthday, Der”.

Derek stared, his mouth falling slightly agape. Illuminated above the theatre doors was a sign.

“Much ado about nothing – starring Matt Bomer as Benedick“


	4. Birthday presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek looked torn between wolfing out defensively, and wanting to drag Stiles away from impending social embarrassment. It was a look he had had occasion to use quite a lot since he and Stiles had started dating.

Derek sat through the play in rapt attention, gazing at the stage and applauding ostentatiously. During the interval he only half noticed the glass of champagne Stiles had pressed into his hands.

“He’s so good, isn’t he? I mean, he has the character just right – the humour is difficult to achieve, but he has it exactly.”

Stiles nodded with a sense of amused tolerance, but Derek could still pick up on the worry. He leant in brushed Stiles’s cheek with a kiss and muttered into his ear “this is the most perfect present you could’ve gotten me.”

The interval bell sounded, and Derek dragged Stiles back to their centre stall seats – failing to notice, in his enthusiasm, that Stiles’s sense of worry had not abated.

 

The play concluded, Derek leaping to his feet to give a standing ovation – joined in by others. The house lights came on, and slowly the theatre emptied. Stiles seemed to be lingering, fussing over their programmes, and they were amongst the last to leave.

“Stiles, that was wonderful. Didn’t you just love it? Wasn’t Matt great?”

Stiles smiled, and dragged Derek down the side of the theatre building towards a side entrance, guarded by a solid looking doorman.

“Hi”. Stiles looked up at the doorman. “Ummm. I’m Stiles. You should have a note or something about me?”

The doorman looked down with seeming disdain. Derek looked torn between wolfing out defensively, and wanting to drag Stiles away from impending social embarrassment. It was a look he had had occasion to use quite a lot since he and Stiles had started dating.

“Sure.” The doorman did not seem inclined to chat. “Straight up the stairs, second left. It’s obvious”.

Derek looked confused, but then allowed a little red to bleed into his eyes as he saw the doorman eye Stiles’s rear appreciatively as he passed. Derek whispered into Stiles’s ear as they moved to the stairwell “You are never wearing this suit in public again.”

Stiles’s ears flushed, which rather undermined the look of feigned innocence.

 

 

They stopped out a door, and before Derek could register the label on it, Stiles had knocked and pushed it open in response to the answering cry.

“Matt, thank you so, so, so much for doing this. I’m Stiles.”

Matt Bomer sat shirtless in front of an illuminated mirror, wiping off stage makeup, and turned as Stiles and Derek came into the room.

“Hey, Stiles. Good to meet you after all the stalking. How did you keep evading the restraining orders?”

“Dad’s a Sheriff… it helps. And this is Derek. He’s, like, your biggest fan ever, and it’s his birthday today.”

“Happy Birthday Derek.”

Derek made a quietly choked sound.

“He says ‘thanks’” Stiles translated helpfully. “You can tell by the way his left eyebrow is waving.”

Derek turned quickly to give Stiles a glare, and then to kiss him, before turning to Matt.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really prepared. This is all a surprise – the whole day has been a…. you were wonderful. On the stage I mean. I mean, you’re wonderful in here too, but that performance today – the way you shifted from the comic part of the role to the vengeance seeker, it was creepy. You sent chills up my spine. It was just….”

Matt pushed himself up from his chair, still shirtless, and pulled Derek into a one armed hug. “You’re so nice to say so. This play is a bit out of the ordinary for me, I’m glad you liked it.” He hugged Derek towards him again. “Woah, you work out a lot – I haven’t felt muscles like that in a long time”. Matt gave Stiles a nod that seemed to mix “well done” with “how in the name of goodness did you pull this one?”.

Derek blushed and stuttered out a reply, while Stiles busied himself taking pictures of the two of them on his Samsung. After a couple of minutes a stage hand wandered past the door, and Stiles practically seized the guy by the arm and dragged him in.

“Could you take a photo of the three of us, please? If Derek can control himself” – said with a pointed look towards Derek’s eyes. A couple of the last set of pictures he had taken on the Samsung had experienced accidental eye glare.

The stage hand complied, and they crowded around to look at the result.

“I didn’t think I could look any more of a geek, but all I needed was to be bookended by you two.” Stiles sounded rueful.

“You look great”. Derek’s reply sounded a little perfunctory. “Matt, tell me again how you get your triceps like that? I’ve used a medicine ball in the past, but I got out of the habit…”

The mutual admiration continued for a few more minutes. Stiles brought out their programmes, and a pen that Derek was astonished he had remembered, and collected autographs. Matt finally looked at his watch.

“Guys, I’ve gotta go. Husband and kids at home and all that. It was great to meet you Stiles. And happy birthday again Derek. You should hang onto Stiles – anyone who went to the lengths he did to get you in here… well, let’s just say I think he’s unique. I hope he's unique, at any rate. Email me about how that tricep routine works out for you – and if you have a chance to get that organic protein shake recipe across to me too?”

Matt left in a blur of perfect teeth and hair, shirt still half unbuttoned. Derek turned to Stiles, his eyes shining, mouth half agape.

“Stiles, that was… you… you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

The aura of worry that had been surrounding Stiles all evening seemed to moderate, and this time Derek noticed.

 

 

 

“You know all the reception staff recognised me as the dork you paraded through the lobby with a T shirt around his head?” They were back in their room at the Mandarin, admiring the night skyline, and Derek was holding Stiles and pretending to complain. “I saw the concierge smirk at me, and concierges are not supposed to smirk at guests in hotels like this.”

Stiles seemed inclined to dismiss Derek’s paranoia. “The concierge was smirking at me, not you, because he thought I’d picked up a hot hooker for the night. On the entirely reasonable grounds that there was no other way I’d be able to tap an ass like this.” There as a sound like a car backfiring as Stiles emphasised his words with action –gripping a little with his hand to get the maximum reaction.

“You are completely ridiculous.” Derek was smiling, seemingly in spite of himself. “It’s a good thing I love you”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? I’m pretty sure you are completely ridiculous, yes. And you know I love you.”

“Even after today? I mean, today was a fairly intense Stiles experience. And while a Stiles experience is a wonderful thing, most doctors recommend Stiles be taken in moderate doses – unless you have some kind of immunity like Scott. I know I must have been annoying. I mean, you had the whole Scott bro scent thing, and the Jeep, and my music, and the gavel and…”

Derek put a finger over Stiles’s lips as he looked at him. There was a lengthy pause. “Are you serious? Stiles, those are the things that…” he trailed off momentarily. “I love that you are so loyal to your friends, I love that you keep driving that wreck of a Jeep because you bought it with your dad and nothing will ever get you to abandon it, I love that you have so eclectic a taste in music and you aren’t afraid to share it. Even the gavel is just your enthusiasm and determination to make things work. Plus there was that time you hit Peter on the nose with it, which as far as I’m concerned gets you a lifetime free pass to use the gavel whenever you want. I’m not saying that I don’t get irritated, but when something gets under your skin it does irritate from time to time – and I get irritated when you aren’t around to irritate me. Those things are what make you who you are, and I love who you are. I don’t want you to change. You are who I love. Even with the gavel.”

Stiles mumbled around Derek’s restraining finger. “Even when compared side by side with Matt Bomer? He’s your number one, top of your list.”

Derek laughed. “Matt Bomer isn’t top of my list.”

Stiles leaned away a little “You said he was top of your list. On D Day, you said I was top five material, but Matt Bomer was number one.”

Derek huffed out, and leant his forehead against Stiles’s. “Matt Bomer is not my number one. You’ve been top of any list I’ve ever had since I met you. _You_ are my number one, Stiles.”

A sudden tension seemed to leave Stiles’s shoulders. “Scott said you’d say that.”

Derek’s eyebrows pulled together the semaphore signal that meant ‘confusion’. “Why on earth would this topic come in general conversation with your boyfriend?”

Stiles disentangled himself. “Never mind. I was so worried about you meeting Matt after I’d made all the arrangements, and I thought you might be comparing him to me, and that you’d decide you could do better. Because you could do better.” Derek made an inarticulate sound of protest. Stiles took a deep breath. “That’s why I talked about this with Scott, and it’s why he came over this morning, and why I smelled so much like him when you got back from your run, because Scott gives the best hugs in the world and if he hadn’t been so sure I could never have gone through with today, but he was sure and I trust Scott. I didn’t want you to meet the man of your dreams and realise I wasn’t someone you wanted to be with. So I might have panicked a bit about your birthday present because I needed you to be sure. About me. The whole going overboard with Stiles thing this morning, and the side by side comparison with Matt Bomer, and the photo of me side by side with the two of you which just reminds you that you could do better, and everything about today, and it was all just leading up to your real birthday present, which I haven’t given you yet, because I was worried about what you might say and I don’t want to ruin what we have because what we have is great, but since Tyler came along I know I want more, and if you don’t think the same way I don’t know what I’ll do, but I thought if I made your options clear and presented the most intense version of me in comparison, and….”

Stiles drew in another ragged breath, as Derek stared at him with a mingled look of consternation and bemusement. His eyebrows were not so much sending out semaphore signals as conducting some kind of flag dance of confusion.

“Oh, my God. Just… just… close your eyes. And keep focusing on the fact that you love me.”

Derek looked fondly at Stiles, and then with exaggerated patience, complied. He could hear the zip on Stiles’s Batman backpack being undone, and the elevated pace of Stiles’s heartbeat.

“Open your eyes”. Stiles sounded nervous. Derek’s eyes flew open, concerned.

Stiles stood in front of him, fidgeting nervously. “so…. Derek… I… I…”

Derek reached out to Stiles, but Stiles suddenly moved. All his agitation stilled into a single moment of calm and resolution. He dropped to one knee, and from behind his back brought out a small dark blue box.

“Derek, I have something to ask you.”


	5. Dire Straits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tyler was teething.” Stiles’s voice took on the slightly gooey tone it always had when he referred to his godson. “So Scott was awake, and wanted to find out how it had gone.”
> 
> “And how would he work out what happened? The entire twenty minutes consisted entirely of the words ‘dude’ and ‘bro’ being repeated over and over, and a lot of hysterical crying.”

The late Sunday morning traffic out of San Francisco seemed to be crawling slower than normal. Derek and Stiles sat silently in the jeep, both staring through the windshield. The only noise was the slight background hum of traffic, filtering through the inadequate seals on Roscoe’s doors. Suddenly there was a strident burst of a couple of bars of music.

“Stiles!”

“What?”. Stiles did not take his eye from the road ahead, but he grinned mischievously. “You’re giving me the monobrow of doom, aren’t you? Give it up, big guy. The monobrow of doom has no impact on me now. I am immune to the monobrow. You said ‘yes’.”

“I could change my mind.” Derek was growling in an undertone, but he simultaneously squeezed Stiles’s hand were it rested on top of the gear shift, beneath his own hand. The movement made the platinum ring catch the sun slightly, emphasising the etched triskelion design that ran around the centre of the band.

“Really?” Stiles glanced across momentarily, before staring ahead again. “I could pull off at the next exit, take you back to Matt. You could bond over triceps and protein shakes again.”

“Why do you keep changing my ringtone? And why Dire Straits?”

“I am perpetually funny, and I continually come up with better and better ideas.” Stiles was completely unrepentant. “And ‘Brothers in Arms’ is a classic, and you and Scott are going to be brothers-in-law now, so it works on so many levels as the ringtone when he texts. It is like some kind of medieval alliance between royal families – one alpha giving his brother, in marriage, to another alpha.” Stiles paused. “No Red Wedding, though.” He shifted lanes to overtake a particularly slow truck. “Anyway, why is my bro texting you? You never text anyone. It’s like you haven’t worked out what opposable thumbs are for. And before you say it, opposable thumbs are not for putting through the holes of thumbhole sweaters. We have talked about those things. Whatever. Scotty should be texting or calling me, not you.”

“Stiles, you had a twenty minute conversation with Scott this morning. At two o’clock this morning.”

“Tyler was teething.” Stiles’s voice took on the slightly gooey tone it always had when he referred to his godson. “So Scott was awake, and wanted to find out how it had gone.”

“And how would he work out what happened? The entire twenty minutes consisted entirely of the words ‘dude’ and ‘bro’ being repeated over and over, and a lot of hysterical crying.”

“The crying was Tyler” Stiles interposed quickly.

“Are you really going to blame that poor, innocent child for the wailing sobs that must have been audible half way across San Francisco?”

“You know what Scott gets like.”

Derek said nothing, but Stiles seemed to sense the raised eyebrow and sassy look that was now directed towards him. He squirmed a little in his seat. “I may have shed a manly tear or two. It was an emotional moment.”

“Uh huh.”

Derek squeezed Stiles’s hand again. Stiles glanced down quickly at the movement, before jerking his head up – seemingly afraid of being distracted by the sight of Derek’s engagement ring.”

“I need to get a ring too. I didn’t before in case you said ‘no’, because I didn’t want to waste the money. It might take a month or two to save up, mind.”

“You don’t need to buy a ring.”

“You’re going to mark me in some other way? Because I have to tell you Derek, I am not down with some of the wolfy marking techniques I’ve read about. We walk on two legs, right? So we use grown up human marking techniques. It’s a ring or nothing – and if I’m not wearing a ring I won’t then be responsible for the consequences if I’m hit on next time I’m in Jungle.”

“I meant” there was a pause “I meant that you don’t need to buy a ring because…”. Derek stopped again. “Pull over a second can you? There’s a Starbucks up ahead.”

Stiles looked enquiringly across. “You’re letting me have another coffee?”

“No, absolutely not.” Derek waited until Stiles pulled the Jeep into a vacant space in the lot. Stiles turned to look directly at him.

“Not even a latte?”.

“I meant…” Derek seemed to be having difficulty saying what he wanted to say. “I meant, you don’t have to buy a ring because I already bought you a ring. Like, five weeks ago. It’s in my sock drawer, at the back.”

“You….” Stiles seemed to be processing this. “You mean you were waiting to ask me to…”

“I was going to ask you after my birthday. I didn’t want to disrupt your plans, because I know you always put a lot of effort into birthdays and I thought that I would ask you when we got back from whatever you had scheduled. I spoke to Scott about it, a couple of weeks ago.”

“You… You…” Stiles leaned across and kissed Derek passionately, pulling him towards him abruptly. “You…” Stiles’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, before his face suddenly morphed into humour. “Wait, you asked Scott’s permission? You went to my alpha to ask if you could woo me? And ask for my paw in marriage?”

Derek nodded. “I thought Scott might have mentioned it last night. But unless the use of the words ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ is some kind of Morse Code… I asked the Sheriff too.”

“Oh, my God.” Stiles suddenly let out a shout of laughter. “That’s what Scott was hiding from me. He said he had a secret that he had to keep from me, because after the whole Gerard thing, aside from the D Day planning, Scotty knows not to keep anything from me, ever, for the sake of his wolvelihood. He promised me it wasn’t a bad thing, and he’d tell me in a month. Hmmm. This was a pretty big thing to keep secret. I’m not sure that some retribution isn’t justified.”

Derek kissed him again. “Stiles, I asked him to keep it a secret, of course I did. Although it means Scott knew we were both going to ask the other. He was probably taking bets on who would ask first.”

Stiles was still musing. “I think it might be time to go nuclear. Dad gets the veggie option at the wedding. And Scott… I might have to reveal some of the dark secrets of his past.”

Derek coughed. “I know about the My Little Pony episode.” There was a grin on his face as he said it.

“He told you?”. Stiles was completely incredulous.

“He said he had to, as otherwise you could blackmail him into giving away the secret, and he wanted it to be a surprise for you. You know what a sap that man is.”

Stiles looked astounded. “Scott would do that, just in case I tried to get the secret from me? He’d do that for me? You don’t know how big a deal this is for him to 'fess up. He's just the best brother a man could... I don’t know what to… I’ve gotta text him.”

Stiles grabbed his Samsung and started texting furiously. Derek took advantage of the interlude to look at the message he had received from Scott.

“Neither of us deserve him in our lives. But if I have to share, I could only share him with you.”

Derek quickly typed back a reply. “I know. And thank you.”

Stiles looked up from the midst of his multi paragraph text. “Wait, what? Did you just send a text? Derek, what the Hell? You _never_ text. What did you text?”

Derek leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss, stopping Stiles in mid flow. “Nothing you ever need to know. Can’t a man text his fiancé’s boyfriend?”

 


End file.
